Well, I guess this is my cue (or I mean, her cue..) to admit it. I am in recovery, a constant state of recovery. I am recovering from something that many suffer from; from something that no one would ever actually know about another person unless the one suffering tells their secret. The secret, my secret, her secret...I am recovering from an eating disorder, or should she say, from eating disorders; every one of them.
I have nearly starved myself. I have binged and then self-tormentingly purged (and, repeat). I have just plain binged (and, repeat). I have gone so long without eating that I felt like I could faint. I have eaten so much that I felt like I could literally explode. I have made myself believe I was "allergic" to foods so I wouldn't eat them, to make it sound okay to those who realized I never, ever touched those foods.
I, for the most part, do not eat because I am hungry or because my stomach is growling. Usually, I eat because I feel empty. Because, basically, I crave to eat as a means to fill myself. Like a self-fulfilling prophecy, I crave to fill myself with the flavor and comfort of all kinds of food. Like an endless emotional desire, I eat. The title 'I am an emotional eater', ewww, I really don't like it. Simply because, dammit, it is what I am. Am I alone? Nah, I know I'm not... I am not the only one who 'lives to eat', so to speak.
When you say it all 'outloud', it doesn't make sense; none of this eating disorder stuff make sense. I am the first to admit that. But, it is what it is... and it is, it really is.